Camp Payback (22 page)

“Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding as thin as the air. It was awesome. Trees rippled and waved below like an ocean of foliage. Shadows made puppets of themselves on the swaying green when clouds swam in front of the sun. Birds called and darted amongst living skyscrapers, their wings moving too fast to see. Everything was bursting, swelling with life. Yet there was a peace about it, too. A rightness. And suddenly I didn’t want to hate this world. I wanted to be a part of what I watched, not at war with it.

“That mountain’s called Tennent.” Bam-Bam pointed at a large peak to our left. “Next time we come out, we’ll camp there. It’s got great views of Ivestor Gap.”

I blinked away the sting in my eyes and pulled on my sunglasses. The glare off the surrounding white rock must be getting to me. Why did Bam-Bam mention a next time? It’s not like he didn’t have a million other things he’d rather do than hang out with me. But there was something in his wide grin, the gleam in his eyes that made me feel like he was having a good time. Like he wanted to be here. I pulled out the creased picture of my mom and dad that I kept in my pocket. If he hadn’t lost his visa, would he be here with me?

I don’t know why I thought about stuff like that since it always reminded me how much life sucked. I turned my back on the world I’d never get to see with my father, the world I’d hardly got to see with my mother. Life didn’t give a crap about me, so why should I care? A vision of Alex’s green eyes came to mind, but I pushed it aside. I’d had too many disappointments to set myself up for one more.

“You hungry?” Bam-Bam knelt on a patch of tan grass, pulling tons of stuff from his backpack.

“Sure. Want me to cook?” I took the skillet he handed me and then grabbed the economy-sized can of beans from my bag. I’d brought some chili peppers from my garden, along with cilantro, green onions, and tomatoes. We might be roughing it, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t eat well.

“Looks like you came prepared.” Bam-Bam tossed me his pocket knife.

“An Eagle Scout is always prepared.” I crossed my fingers over my heart and couldn’t keep a straight face at Bam-Bam’s smirk. Yeah, I wasn’t exactly a scout. Just appreciative of good food. The garden at camp had been great for my cooking.

“All right then.” He roughed up my hair, then gave me a small shove toward a lone tree line. “Let’s get some wood and start the fire.”

I broke off a branch, then lowered it at Bam-Bam’s frown.

“We need old wood,” he said. “The drier and scruffier it looks, the better. Got it?”

I nodded and threw down the limb. After twenty minutes of searching, we barely had a bundle of twigs. Then I spotted it.

“Look!” A leftover campfire lay half-hidden behind a rock. Who’d ever camped here must have left early because most of the logs were in pretty good shape.

I staggered under his shoulder clap. “Way to go, champ. With that, the wood I brought, and this kindling, we should have ourselves a good old-fashioned campfire. I may even sing.”

“Please don’t,” I said, my mouth moving faster than my brain. But Bam-Bam only laughed.

“You haven’t heard me yodel yet, kiddo. And I only do it on special occasions.”

“Like before they take you to the loony bin?” I was more comfortable joking around now. Bam-Bam wasn’t uptight like a lot of adults.

“Maybe.” He slid me a sideways look so serious my mouth dropped open.

“I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of—you know—like that post-war stuff and all, and—”

Bam-Bam’s wide smile flashed, and he punched my arm. “Hah! Got ya, kid.”

I punched him back. “You son of a—” And before I knew it, we were pretend-sparring on the empty mountaintop, our kicking, hitting, and shoving in plain view of God and anyone else who cared to watch.

At first it was just fun, but every time Bam-Bam landed one, then danced out of reach, my anger started to rise. The fight reminded me of my life, blows coming at me when I least expected them. And me—powerless me—unable to stop it. It didn’t matter that Bam-Bam was barely tapping me.

Eventually my temper boiled over until I lashed out hard. I didn’t realize his lip was bleeding until he pulled out a handkerchief. I’d split it. Damn. I sprinted away and got as far as the trailhead before Bam-Bam tackled me.

I turned, swung blindly and screamed, my fury at myself a tangible thing. I hated being out of control. Hated being me. Bam-Bam pinned my arms at my side and knelt beside me, his face calm despite the red dripping down his chin.

“You got a nice uppercut there.”

I stopped thrashing and stared. What? No recriminations, no lectures, no “Proceed directly to a foster group home; do not pass Go…do not see Alex”? Impossible. My heart thudded louder than the rattling cicadas.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” I blurted, staring up into his scarred, craggy face.

“That’s what they say every time they take me to the loony bin.” His cut lip quirked, and guilt cut me even harder. “What do they say when you get kicked out of foster homes?”

I gaped at Bam-Bam. So he knew about that. Of course he did. “That I’m out of control. Won’t listen to authority. Have anger issues. Potential for future incarceration,” I quoted from a report I’d once seen in Helena’s office, my voice thick. Unsteady. No matter how calm or cool I usually tried to act, I always knew the truth about myself. It was all there in black and white.

“Any of that bullshit true?” Bam-Bam looked me in the eyes as if he could see through my dark sunglasses, past my apathetic expression, to what was hidden behind it all.

And he’d called the reports bullshit. I sat up and wrapped an arm around my bent knees. Protecting myself. Always on guard. Bam-Bam was throwing me off my game. Did he actually want the truth?

“No. Yes. Sometimes.”

Bam-Bam plucked a long strand of grass and put it between his teeth. He stretched out on the ground beside me, one ankle resting on his other knee. “Fair enough. Honesty isn’t one of your problems.” He cleared his throat, then eyed me again. “Loyalty either. Helena says you’ve been running away from foster homes to visit your mother.”

The way he said it. Straight out. No judgment. It made me want to share something I’d never told anyone before. Not even Helena. “My smile’s the only thing that keeps her going.”

His sigh mingled with the wind. “Keeping your mom happy isn’t your job.”

My hands balled in my lap. “The hell it’s not.”

“It’s her job, Javier. Hers.”

There it was again. That steady, matter-of-fact tone that made my world tilt.

“Yeah, well. I ruined Mom’s life. If I hadn’t been born, she’d have gotten a college degree and would probably be working in a nice office. Instead she’s wearing orange and behind bars.” It was my fault. Mine.

Bam-Bam tossed aside the grass and rolled over to lean on an elbow. “Did you ask to be born?” He stared up at me until I shrugged.

“Like I had a choice.”

“Exactly.” He lay back down again and crossed his arms behind his head. Casual. Like we were talking about the weather. Nothing major. Nothing that blew my mind apart.

My mouth opened and closed. I struggled to argue back, to deny what he suggested. But after a moment of looking like a fish out of water, I flopped back on the rocky dirt. I had nothing.

Seriously.

The dude had a point. And if he was right, then that meant…my mind shut the valve off of that possibility. It was too much to process. Taking care of Mom was all I knew how to do. That and cooking. Maybe I’d make her a big meal when she got out of jail. Show her what I’d learned at camp.

“Your situation is not your destination, Javier,” rumbled Bam-Bam.

“Huh?”

The ex-Marine sighed. “Just think about it.” He stood, brushed the dirt off his camouflage shorts, and headed back to our packs. “I’ll get the fire started,” he added over his shoulder.

His boots crunched away while I gnawed on the idea. What if I didn’t stay in North Carolina? What if I moved to New York like Helena wanted? Worked in her brother’s restaurant and earned enough to go to culinary school?

Did I deserve that? After the mess I’d made of Mom’s life—no way. But another voice whispered that Bam-Bam could be right. Those were her choices. Not mine. Maybe I deserved a chance, too.

Lightness filled me as I stared up into the darkening, early evening sky. The emptiness was vast, and I breathed it in until it pushed out my anger and guilt. I wasn’t mad at Bam-Bam. And I wasn’t mad at the world. I was mad at myself, and that was something I could control. As for the rest, I didn’t have to figure it out today.

“Sorry,” I said when I finally joined Bam-Bam. He took the log I offered and nodded. “I’m going to do better.”

He was quiet for so long that I wasn’t sure he heard me. At last he grunted, struck a match, and tossed it on the pile.

“I believe you.”

And just like that, I did, too.

Alex

My spoon clanged against my glass until the mess hall quieted after lunch. The meal had been less interesting with Javier gone on his hike. I tamped down my disappointment at the thought of him and my disastrous first rehearsal last night. Hopefully, this announcement would fix all of that.

“Hey look, it’s the dictator—I mean, the
director,”
called Brooke. Laughter filled the room, especially when Brittany snorted milk out of her nose. All right, then.

“Enough, people,” boomed an unrecognizably loud voice. We all turned to see Victoria, the Divas’ counselor, propped against one of the vertical wooden beams that ran in rows the length of the room. “Alex has got important news about our skit.”

Whoa. I’d told her my plans on the way in to lunch, but since she’d only nodded, I hadn’t thought she’d heard.

“Yes.” I cleared my throat and stood on my tiptoes since some of the taller boys blocked me. “We’ve renamed the skit
West Side Scary
after hearing Brittany’s excellent suggestion that we update it to a vampire/werewolf love story.”

Some of the Warriors booed until the Divas’ crossed their arms and glared them back into silence. Brittany grinned and stood, taking a bow that revealed enough cleavage to earn a smattering of applause.

“She’ll also be co-directing it with me and helping me hold an open audition call this afternoon. Hope to see you there.”

“We’d better see you there!” Brittany warned, her flirty smile making more than a few male campers scurry over to the sign-up board and rewrite the names they’d crossed off.

I sat down and returned Yasmine’s approving smile. “Phew. That went better than I expected.”

She speared a turkey meatball with her fork and pointed it at me. “Good work, Alex.”

I couldn’t help but glow a little. She’d been right. Including other people, using their ideas and input, might not be what I wanted, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t for the best.

“Wonder what I’ll be?” Trinity dumped her meatballs and bit into her saucy bun.

“A vampire,” we chorused, laughing and pointing at the red running down her chin.

“Ewwww.I don’t even like meat.” She swiped at her chin and tossed a stray dreadlock over her shoulder.

Jackie held up her sub. “What do you think werewolves eat?”

Trinity shuddered and turned to me. “Are we doing anything graphic like that?”

I glanced at Siobhan, but her attention was riveted on Rafael, who seemed to be debating something with Julian at the next table. “Ummm. Not too much. Siobhan helped me rewrite the final scene this morning. Just a beheading, I think.”

Piper clapped her hands. “Awesome. I
so
want to be a werewolf.”

Emily pulled up a chair, an overstuffed folder tucked under her arm. “And I want to be Dr. Drew. Sheesh. Do you have any clue how much work it is to help girls these days?”

Yasmine nodded. “You are doing a good thing, Emily.”

“What would I have done without you this summer, Yasmine?” Emily high-fived her.

I opened my mouth to say, “Had some fun,” but closed it. Yasmine might not be the life of the party, but now that I’d started reevaluating things, maybe that wasn’t important. In fact, she was starting to feel like a friend.

“So when does your skit meet? Sorry I’m not helping.” Emily scooped up one of Yasmine’s meatballs and popped it in her mouth.

I shrugged. I was getting used to this go-it-alone thing. Actually starting to like it. “It’s okay. We start in…” I checked my waterproof watch. “Ohmigod. Ten minutes.”

I stood and scanned the room for Victoria, but she’d disappeared. That figured. “I’ve got to go set up the rec room. I’ll see all of you there, right?”

A chorus of fake snarls and gnashing teeth erupted from my friends as I wove through the tables toward the door. I smiled. They’d need a little voice coaching if they were getting parts.

Brittany met me at the door. “You weren’t leaving without your co-director, were you?” Her fingernails, painted in ladybug patterns, tapped on the wooden frame. “I was so excited when you picked me as your partner.”

My forehead beaded. Oops. I had promised to include her. “Of course.” I handed her the rewritten script. “Here are the new pages—pending your approval.”

Brittany smiled, gold-colored fangs on proud display.

Whoa.

“You like?” She tapped her “teeth.” “My Secret Camp Angel got me a vampire grill. Emily’s idea totally rocks. Now let’s see that script.” She turned the pages as we stepped out into a day so bright the camp looked like it’d been whitewashed.

A couple minutes later, she handed it back. “Looks fine.”

I paused at the rec room door. “Did you read it?”

Brittany tossed her blonde hair into a high ponytail. “Duh. I have like a photographic memory.”

My eyes narrowed. “So what’s Camp Juniper Point’s motto? You know, the thing on the brochure they give our parents every year?”

Brittany shifted her weight to her other foot and took in a deep breath. “At Camp Juniper Point, we embrace a holistic approach to reducing the fragmentation that exists in young lives. We empower our campers to be less busy, less formally structured, less overtly competitive, more committed to meaningful moments and attentive to the wonder that surrounds them. Our objective is to present opportunities that build into a series of personal accomplishments that accumulate during the time they are with us. The goal is that they return from Camp Juniper Point with bold hearts and strong character—”